Page 12 of The Secrets He Keeps

Callista accepted the compliment with a tilt of her head before she slid her attention down the length of his masculine form. She’d thought him handsome before, but in his black evening wear and stark white cravat, he looked far more distinguished and more delectable than any of the lords surrounding them. “No spectacles?”

If he was put off by her comment, he didn’t show it as he gave a half shrug. “I prefer opera glasses when at the theater.” Gesturing to the side, he asked, “The show will start shortly. Shall we take our seats?”

When people attended the theater, it was to observe the other attendees as much as it was to watch the performers on stage, which meant the seats were rarely occupied by the start of the show as people continued to mingle in the lobby well into the evening.

It seemed Mr. Maxwell did not intend to follow that trend.

“If you wish,” she replied lightly, then had to hold her breath as he smoothly stepped to her side. After tucking her hand into the bend of his elbow, he maintained a respectable distance as he led her through the crowded room. His proper decorum was disconcerting. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man who played the role of escort. If she went anywhere with a member of the opposite sex, she was leading the way.

His stride remained unhurried as he brought her first to the cloak room to check her outer garment before passing right by the refreshment counter to take her up the stairs to the upper seating level. When he stopped outside the drawn curtains of a private box, Callista glanced at him curiously.

He smiled at her questioning look and swept the curtain aside to allow her to pass onto the darkened balcony. “After you.”

“How extravagant,” she noted.

“I’ve a few friends in high places.”

Though the box held seats for up to six people, it appeared it had been reserved for just the two of them. A table had been set up with chilled champagne along with a bottle of brandy.

As Maxwell stepped up behind her, the curtain leading to the hall fell closed. Standing back from the balcony railing as she was, she couldn’t see the floor seating at all and the stage curtains were still closed. All she could hear were the sounds of the orchestra playing softly and subtle movement of her skirts as she turned to face the man behind her.

“I think I like your friends,” she whispered.

His answering laugh was rich and warm. A man’s laugh shouldn’t be so physically affecting. Shaking off her reaction, she stepped forward to take one of the seats.

“A drink, madam?”

“Champagne.” She was in the mood for something light and sparkly to balance the velvet darkness surrounding them. Just because she’d decided to allow him the opportunity to seduce her didn’t mean she intended to make it easy for him.

After handing her a crystal flute and taking one for himself, he took the seat beside her.

“Thank you for joining me this evening.”

Callista glanced aside at him. Keeping her expression neutral, she noted the way his black and silver hair swept back from his broad forehead in soft waves. Without his glasses, the predatorial gleam of his gaze was poignant and sharp beneath thick brows, even in the darkened theater. But his mouth was relaxed and soft. The upper lip was modestly arched while the lower was full and lush. It was a deliciously kissable mouth.

He waited patiently for her to finish her perusal, without fidgeting or glancing away. He was comfortable being under direct observation, which usually indicated a person who was confident they had nothing to hide or someone who was so accustomed to deception they had no fear of detection.

Which was he?

“I imagine your business takes a great deal of your time,” he added.

“It does,” she finally replied as she sipped her drink. Though in truth, the demand on her time was far less than it had been even five years ago. Pendragon’s Pleasure House was well staffed and had reached a point when it could essentially run itself.

“Is it difficult for you to get away?” He gestured toward the stage. “For diversions such as this, I mean.”

She arched a brow. “Not particularly. I simply prefer to spend my time doing what I enjoy. I enjoy business, Mr. Maxwell. I enjoy success and profit and the wealth and influence that have come with it.”

He smiled then. Lowering his chin, he asked earnestly, “And what about life outside of Pendragon’s?”

Callista scoffed. “There is no life outside of Pendragon’s. It is me and I am it.” She looked away from him to casually scan the slowly filling theater below. Already she spotted several of her clients, some of them escorting their wives, others ensconced in the shadows with their mistress. Without turning her head back to the man beside her, she asked, “Why all the questions? What will you do with my secrets once you’ve dug them all up?”

“Nothing.” His voice was velvety and dark. The accent she’d become accustomed to thickened with his whisper. “Secrets are for keeping, madam.”

She slid him a glance from the corners of her kohl-rimmed eyes. “Well, I have none. Anyone who wants to know about me will have little trouble gathering the facts of my life. There have been many who have sought to discredit me over the years. Rivals who have tried to sink my ambitious rise. They have all failed. I hide nothing, so there is nothing to discover.”

He shook his head. “That is blatantly untrue.”

Callista narrowed her gaze.

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